Bloodless
by Vasiliki
Summary: Draco/Harry. Heavy warnings for non-con, gang bang, violence, angst, etc - even though it's all in Draco's mind. "After the end of HBP, Draco is hiding. He is bored in his confinement, and is spending his time thinking."
1. Chapter 1

_**Bloodless (D/H**__**, post-HBP, NC-17)**_

Author: Vasiliki

Written: Sept 2005, post-HBP

Beta-reader: anna-garny, May 2010

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Rating: hard NC-17

Summary: After the end of HBP, Draco is hiding. He is bored in his confinement, and is spending his time thinking.

Warnings: Non-happy fic. Non-consensual sex, gang-rape, angst, etc - even though it's only in Draco's mind.

.-.-.-.

This was Malfoy's life after betraying Hogwarts: loneliness, boredom, anger and fear, boredom, endless bouts of masturbation that kept getting more experimental and unusual the longer he remained confined, boredom, hate. A day, a week, a month, the sun rose and set, food _popped_ on the table, and he had learned all there was to learn about his tiny new home in the very first hour that he had been abandoned there. There were ten or fifteen books on two selves, most of which he read quickly (he was not going to read a couple of them that were of the stupid romance kind, no matter how out of his mind with boredom he became), and some of them he re-read. He wondered if they had been left there by Snape, although all could not, obviously, belong to him, or if someone else, a female fugitive, (a lover?), had occupied this space at some point in the past.

He became a master of masturbation techniques, and erotic fantasies, and dirty scenarios that could get him off in no time. The more time he had, the dirtier they became, and this worried him a bit because some of them were immoral even by Death Eater standards, yet he kept his conscience quiet by telling himself he was still horrified by people who actually acted them out in reality. It kept bothering him, however, so he decided not to bring anymore into his jerk-off fantasies animals or children - with the exception of First Year Potter, who deserved anything that happened to him in Malfoy's scenarios.

Gradually, he lost interest in most of his other fantasies, and they started centering more and more around young Potter, weak Potter, with his thick glasses, and scrawny frame, and over-sized clothes. Potter who was being humiliated by Snape in Potions class, degraded on the Quidditch field, gang-raped by Slytherins in the Great Hall, with Draco always present - at the beginning only watching, for his friends had arranged the attack as an offering to him, but later on participating, always in more prominent roles, until he was the one orchestrating the whole thing and snapping orders for everyone about what to do to Potter at every moment.

Potter always fought back but lost to his better, Draco. Potter always tried to use his anger and hold back tears painful for his pride, but he never managed it because Draco knew exactly how to get so rough and cruel that he broke Potter's body and will at the same time. Potter could bend into all positions and take everything and everyone, _many everyones_, up his ass and mouth and every orifice of his body that Draco could think of, even giving him a pussy once so that he could stuff him up with more Slytherins at the same time – Blaise, and Pansy in a strap-on, double-fucking him from the front, Crabbe and Goyle from behind, and Draco fucking his face grabbing him by the ears and pulling so hard he thought he'd rip them off. Which he never did because he had decided he did not like it when his little scenarios got bloody, so Potter's ears only became red from Draco's unrelenting gripping and were pulsing hot under Draco's palms with blood boiling under the surface, yet never breaking through the skin. Sometimes he had Potter swallowing every drop of his release, and sometimes he was coming all over his face and eyes, no wait, glasses... no, eyes, green eyes that stung when Draco was shooting into them, but Potter was keeping them open because of Imperius - no, everyone knew that Potter could throw off that Unforgivable, he was keeping them open because Draco was his master now and Potter had learned his place, had learned that his only place was under Draco and the only purpose of his existence was to please his master.

Weeks passed, and Draco's scenarios started feeling unsatisfying. Something was not right, something must have been missing. Otherwise there could be no explanation for finding himself replaying other scenes in his mind's eye, scenes that had really happened, but extending them or giving them a different ending. Like, leaving the Quidditch field with Crabbe and Goyle on Polyjuice and coming face to face with Potter, or finding out that Potter had come up behind him during their first Apparating lesson, or re-imagining their bathroom stand-off. He kept coming back to the bathroom meeting, playing out what would have happened if he had been faster in swirling around and throwing his first spell, if he had raised his eyes and seen Potter's cracked reflection in the mirror sooner - if Potter would not be cracked for real now. He kept imagining casting Sectumsempra himself, and Potter falling on the tiles, his body broken forever and blood splashing from it everywhere, drenching Draco's skin and robes, pooling around a dying Potter on the floor… and then Draco was ripping his hand out of his trousers breathing hard and feeling sick to his stomach, swearing at himself because he knew very well he did not like blood in his fantasies, yet had gone and used it anyway, thus spoiling his _ultimate_ fantasy of complete dominance over Potter: of taking the life of that little Muggle-lover and watching his too bright eyes turning dull with death, his fleshy mouth unmoved, frozen in a grimace of pain, or surprise, yes, a little surprised, pained _oh_ his full lips would pronounce roundly. But Malfoy could never get off on this fantasy, just feel sick, and did not know what was wrong with him. He could only imagine and hate and wish he could do it, but even in his mind he could not do it, much less enjoy it.

More time passed, more reminiscing of the past, older events, and earlier school years. One day Draco was lying down, staring at the ceiling, when he admitted to himself that not only had he always hated, but also at some point had started wanting Potter. Yet, having been turned down from the very beginning, and the following years having been what they were between them and their respective loyalties, he had always known he could never have him, therefore his hate had only grown worse. He would never be able to give in to Potter anymore. If Potter changed his mind now, if he suddenly Apparated in this very room and begged Draco to forgive him for attempting to kill him with a curse that should have been an Unforgivable, while Draco himself had only wanted to torture him, make him pay for catching him in such an undignified moment of stark weakness - if Potter extended a hand of friendship to him, then Draco knew he would not accept it. He could not accept it anymore, there was too much blood and pain threaded through their personal history. He would hex Potter on the spot because he hated him, hated him so much that he fantasized about publicly humiliating him in every imaginable sexual way with as many people and items involved as possible - was that not enough proof of his feelings of all-encompassing hate?

And if at times he was alone with Potter in his mind, and they were on an actual bed, nothing but themselves and the sheets on that bed, and Potter's eyes were soft and bright and smiling looking up at him, and on his side at him, and down at him, and his touch was not violent, was everything he once upon a time had wanted it to be… then that was the sickest fantasy of all, which could offer him no satisfaction, making his hands tremble while touching his cold skin, and leaving him hugging his own arms. It was the sickest little scenario of all that could not even get him off, because Draco needed a glimpse of hopeful reality in his jerk-off fantasies and this one was the only one that would never, could never, come even close to becoming real.

Draco knew that, he accepted it, and after his rare moments of weakness passed, he hated Potter all the more, with such a blind all-sweeping passion, that he knew with an absolute, terrifying certainty that the moment he set eyes upon him, he would kill him with the Unforgivable he had never used before, for he was saving it only for him. He would sneer and point his wand at him and his hand would not be trembling, not against that opponent. It would only last an instant.

It would be bloodless.

-fin-


	2. Author's note

Author's note:

Although this story is unlike my other stories, not only because it mentions humiliation and non-con, but also because it ends on a prophetic death note, I do like it.

I wrote it after the "Half-Blood Prince", when the Harry/Draco fandom still hoped Draco would become a spy for Harry's side, or at least stop fighting alongside the Death-Eaters, so that he could later get together with Harry.

But after Harry used Sectumsempra (albeit unknowingly of the spell's effects) on Draco in HBP, and wasn't dragged down by guilt afterwards, I could see no such happy ending for my favorite pairing.

I also thought Draco would get an aversion to blood after that incident.

Finally, I thought that even if Draco harbored secret feelings for Potter and Harry unexpectedly reciprocated them, Draco wouldn't be able (after he almost bled to death because of him!) to allow himself forgive him anymore.

The end of the fic foreshadows Draco casting the Avada Kedavra on Harry during their next encounter, but it lacks its original impact because "Deathly Hallows" has been published since then, so we know such an encounter never took place. :)


End file.
